Dead Ends
by adorable pragmatism
Summary: After a year on the run, Bart's saved by the last Batman and offered a chance to change the past.


A/N: Bart and Batman!Damian future shenanigans! Except not really shenanigans just really depressing things and everyone being deeeaaad.

* * *

Bart thinks this is it. The mode finally got him, finished him. The end.

He can't run anymore. His legs and feet ache. He can't remember the last time he ate or drank something, and his stomach is screaming at him, so empty that it's collapsing in on itself. The hunger hurts more than bruises and the scrapes ever could. He can't heal until he gets some food in him.

He's crumpled on the dusty ground. No strength to lift himself up. So he lies there, staring into space and even though he hates himself for it, for giving up, he can't help but think that it's not all bad. All the others are gone already. His grandparents, his parents, the other heroes… anyone who could have helped him.

His vision fades, and the last thing he sees is a pair of gleaming red eyes watching him from the shadows.

The creature is welcome to attack him. It doesn't even matter at this point. He's already as good as dead.

* * *

The smell of food snaps him back to consciousness better than anything else could. He's bolting upright, drawn toward the mouth-watering smell of real nourishment.

Nothing else matters. He has a one-track mind, and it isn't until he's taken a few bites off the plate in front of him—bland, preserved rations, but it tastes delicious to him—and the plate is suddenly snatched away from him that he cares to throw a thought towards where he is, or who saved him, or where the food even came from.

He tries to voice protest at the food being taken away, and only makes himself choke and cough.

"Do you want to make yourself sick? You need to slow down."

Bart blinks and everything else comes into focus. He's in what looks like a large underground bunker. Cement walls. Steel beams. Dim lighting. Safety.

There's a man sitting beside his cot. A frowning man with dark hair, cold blue eyes, and scars on his face. And he's wearing a symbol Bart recognizes across his chest. The Bat.

Bart's heard about them, and seen pictures, but he's never seen a Batman in the flesh before. There were rumours… but he thought that Batman nowadays was nothing more than an urban legend.

Once Bart's stopped coughing, the Batman hands him the plate again, along with a bottle of water, and sends Bart a warning glare that makes him eat more slowly, carefully.

"Are you…" Bart says after a minute. His mouth is half-full. He swallows. "Are you a _real_ Batman?"

The man is standing on the other side of the room now, looking at something on a large, glowing computer screen mounted on the wall. He spares a short glance over his shoulder at Bart.

"-Tt- What do you think?"

* * *

"You're a speedster," Batman remarks impassively. "I thought they were all dead."

Bart's up and about, stretching his legs. They're wobbly but he's regaining his strength fast. "I thought Batman was dead."

"Batman doesn't die."

"Oh?" Bart asks, jogging laps around the bunker, keeping his pace slow and steady. Well, slow for him. He still sends Batman's cape rippling when he passes by. "I've heard differently." He distinctly remembers Wally telling him that he used to know the second Batman—was it the second?—before he died.

"You've heard wrong," Batman snaps. He's standing in front of a steel worktable, inspecting a piece of tech that Bart recognizes as his own, from his backpack. "You have a mode jammer. Consider yourself lucky—I wouldn't have brought you here if there was a chance they were tracking you."

"Yeah, uh, thanks a lot for that. I'm Bart Allen, by the way. And… Hey!" he exclaims in indignation as Batman dumps the rest of his backpack's contents onto the table. He darts beside Batman and frowns up at the man. "Wait a second! That's _my_ stuff you're pawing through!"

Batman scowls at him. "You're in _my_ base and ate _my_ food. I'm checking for weapons. I can't trust you yet."

Bart crosses his arms irritably, but relents. He doesn't want to get kicked out into the cold. "Just be careful with it, okay?"

It's not like he has much in his backpack. It looks like even less than he thought, seeing it spread out over the table like that. An empty water bottle, a couple of lighters, food wrappers, a ragged change of clothes… All he really cares about are a few personal possessions. They're the most important things he owns.

Personal possessions like the battered stack of photos held together by an elastic band. that Batman's picking up and rifling through. There's fourteen of them. Bart's looked through them countless times. There are two from his Grandma Iris and Grandpa Barry's wedding, a few of his dad and Aunt Dawn as babies, a family picture at his cousin Wally's high school graduation, some with his Grandpa Barry as the Flash…

Batman pauses on a half-charred photo of the Justice League. Several of the members are burned away, but Flash is still there, and so are Superman and Batman. Grandma Iris said it was the original Batman. Bruce Wayne. Bart wonders if this Batman knew the first, if he misses him.

There's a second picture Batman lingers on. One that used to belong to Wally. It's a group of teenagers at a New Year's party. The Team, Wally called them. A team he was part of, a long time ago. It's one of Bart's favourites. Everyone just looks so happy. Glad to be together.

When Bart was little, Wally used to point out and name everyone in the picture, so even though Bart's never met most of them before, he knows exactly who they are. Whenever he looks at it, he names each of them in his head like they're his friends. That's M'gann M'orzz (Miss Martian) pecking Conner Kent (Superboy) on the cheek while Garfield Logan (Beast Boy) stands beside them and makes a face at the camera. Barbara Gordon, Karen Beecher, and Cassie Sandsmark (Batgirl, Bumblebee, and Wonder Girl) are laughing in the middle. Dick Grayson (Nightwing) is grinning with Tim Drake (Robin) and has his arm slung around the younger boy's shoulders.

Wally and Artemis are in the back with the others. She's smirking at something he said.

Bart never got to meet Artemis, but he remembers Wally talking fondly about her all the time.

Batman looks at that picture for a long time, then slaps the whole stack of photos down onto the table and continues sorting through Bart's backpack.

"What's on that computer?" Bart asks, pointing at the large computer screen. He's never seen a computer that fancy before. Computers in general are a rarity. Most were destroyed.

"The last remaining copy of the Justice League's database, among other things."

"Really?" Bart nearly vibrates on the spot, he's so excited. "Are you serious? Can I—?"

"Later," Batman says dismissively.

* * *

Batman pricks Bart's finger with a tiny device that tests his blood so he can do a DNA analysis. It proves that he's related to Barry Allen, and the scans come back clean of traces of mode control. He's who he says he is, and he isn't under the enemy's influence. Batman still acts wary and curt towards him, but he seems convinced. For now.

"How did you survive out there this long?" Batman asks, glancing at the table where Bart's few worldly possessions, few of them practical, are laid out.

Bart shrugs. There's a lot to that answer, a lot of things he's resorted to that he doesn't want to admit out loud. "Running."

"Hrm." Batman pulls his cowl up, checks the pouches on his belt, and walks to the locked, heavily reinforced exit door. "I'm going out. I have something to take care of that's already been delayed enough because of you. Stay here. Break anything and I'll break you."

"Can I use the computer?" Bart asks eagerly. "I just want to read about the Flash, and maybe—"

Batman grunts, which Bart takes as a yes. "Don't touch any files labelled RG."

"Why?"

"Because I said so."

* * *

Days pass and Bart comes to realize that Batman _isn't _mad at him constantly—that annoyed scowl is just his default expression.

Batman doesn't give his name. When Bart asks, he ignores the question. He ignores a lot of Bart's questions. Some in particular strike a nerve and cause him to scowl more heavily and not talk to Bart for a few hours. Questions like:

"How long have you been Batman for?"

"So… do you need a Robin?"

"Are you Tim Drake?"

"Did you know the first Batman? Or the second?"

It's weird. Bart doesn't remember anyone talking about a third Batman. But some of his early memories are fuzzy. There have been so many lost heroes; they all sort of blend together after a while.

This isn't Dick Grayson—he knows that. The face doesn't match the photo, even with decades added. He can't quite guess how old Batman is. In his forties, maybe? Close to Bart's father's age. It's hard to tell how much of Batman's stony face is weathered from actual aging, and how much from loss. Hardship. Anger.

Batman acts less than hospitable, but somehow Bart doesn't feel like he's unwelcome. So he sticks around. He'd be stupid to leave so soon. There's food here. Shelter. Electricity. A friend. (Batman gave him food. Bart considers that friendship, even if the man's a bit prickly and cold.)

Bart tries to help. He cleans up around the bunker and sharpens batarangs and a couple of times he lends a hand to stitch up Batman's latest war wound. He wants to show that he's useful, so that Batman won't get sick of him and send him out.

Bart doesn't want to be sent away. This is the first time he's had stability in more than a year, since his parents died.

* * *

Batman leaves every night, and doesn't come back until morning. At least, that's what Bart thinks. It's hard to keep track of time underground. He only has the time displayed on the computer screen to go on.

Barts spends hours browsing through the computer files when Batman's gone and he has it all to himself. There are pictures and videos, news articles and other written records, all about heroes like the Flash. It's more information than Bart's ever gotten about his grandfather, and it fills in the blanks between those anecdotes he used to hear from his family.

He learns exactly how the Flash died. All the details. Something no one ever liked to talk about.

The door mechanism makes a lot of noise when Batman returns to the bunker. Scraping and creaking metal. It's like they're living inside a vault.

Batman never says anything to Bart when he first gets back. He has a sort of routine of checking the security system, putting his equipment away, and treating whatever injuries he got during the night.

"What do you even do out there?" Bart asks one day, while Batman's sitting and mending a tear in his uniform.

"Fight crime," Batman says tersely. "What I'm supposed to do."

"But how do you tell who's a bad guy and who's just trying to survive? Maybe you've been locked away down here too long to realize it, but not everyone's lucky enough to have all _this_." Bart gestures widely around at the bunker. Batcave (though not the original—that was destroyed a long time ago). Whatever it is.

"Stop pretending you understand my work."

"That's the thing; I _don't_. I don't get it. _Who_ are you punishing?" The only real bad guys are the ones who cause the mode, who control meta-humans and turn them into weapons. And they're untouchable. Too powerful to fight. It's because of them that Bart spent the last year running and hiding. Bart crosses his arms and meets Batman's eyes defiantly. "I know that Batman's job is to like… stop crooks, but, those people out there… if they're doing things like stealing it's probably because they don't have a choice. It's hard to be good when you're hungry and— and being hunted and doing whatever you need to do to stay alive."

Batman is almost… _smirking_ at him. It's the closest Bart's seen him come to smiling, and it's a little frightening. "Anything you want to confess?"

"No," Bart says quickly. Quickly for him, even.

They don't talk for a while after that. Suddenly the bunker feels stuffy, confining. Bart feels trapped inside the cement walls along with the words he regrets saying and Batman's silent judgement.

"I want to go outside," Bart tells Batman.

The man scowls in irritation but puts aside what he's working on to set Bart up with a communication device and instruct him strictly on where to go and where to avoid, to not run unless it's an emergency, and which winding route to take back to the bunker to ensure he's not followed.

It's a pain having to _walk_ at such an excruciatingly slow pace. It's worth it though, to step out of the dank subway tunnel the bunker's hidden in and see the sun for the first time in over a week. It's shining weakly through the grey, smoggy sky. A pretty nice day, for winter. At least it's not snowing.

Bart keeps his head down and the hood of his jacket up as he wanders through the streets of Gotham. It's the first time he's really seen this city. He wasn't in Gotham long before Batman found him, and he hardly even remembers how he _got _here in the first place.

Most of the buildings are abandoned, charred dark and crumbling. A few blocks are more intact, and that's where the remaining people are living. Bart tries to avoid those areas. He doesn't talk to anyone. Does his best to not be seen. He stays outside until he starts getting hungry.

When he goes back and waits for the door to open, he's flooded with the fear that it will stay locked. But Batman does let him back in.

* * *

Most mornings, Batman returns with something new. Bits of tech, small devices that look suspiciously alien, like they're from the mode, and machine parts. They're not scrap parts, either. They look like they're in good working condition, and that must mean that they're stolen.

Bart asks about them, but Batman never gives him an answer. He just says, "Don't touch."

* * *

Bart's only ever seen Batman fight in the training area on the lower level of the bunker, but it's obvious he's good. More than good. Someone taught him, but who? One of the other Batmen?

Bart's kind of jealous. He wish he had more time to learn how to use his powers from his family, but they're gone and he has to make do on his own.

There's a phrase Batman says in the middle of training, like a mantra. He mutters it under his breath, grunts it out, especially when he's angrier than usual. When his eyes are dark and his jaw clenched and he lets out his rage by ruthlessly beating a punching bag in a way that makes Bart feel bad for the thing.

"We will _rebuild_—" A fierce punch, full-force, sends the punching bag swinging wildly away as the chain jangles. "—and we will _thrive." _He hits it with a spinning kick on the backswing.

"Do you believe that?" Bart asks from where he's sitting at the table, reading one of the few books he found in the bunker.

"Believe what?"

"_We will rebuild and we will thrive," _he echoes. "Do you actually believe that?"

"No."

"Then why do you keep saying it?"

Batman looks at him blankly, and it hits Bart that the man _didn't realize _he was saying it. Maybe Batman's crazier than Bart thought. Years of solitude can do funny things to a person.

"Someone else used to say it," Batman says bitterly. "Don't think _he_ believed it, either."

"So it just… got caught in your head or something?" asks Bart. He turns a page. _Hmm_s to himself. "You've been alone for a long time. Am I right?"

Batman stills the weakly spinning punching bag with his palm. "I've had allies over the years. Colin. Nell. Carrie. They don't last long."

"And I'm just the latest?"

"If all works out, you'll be the last."

Bart frowns and looks up from his book. "What?"

Batman wipes his face with a towel and tosses it to the floor as he walks up the steps to Bart's level. "How far would you go to save the world?" he asks seriously.

Bart feels like he's being tested. He meets Batman's eyes and tells him truthfully, "Far. As far as I have to."

"Even back in time?"

"_Back in time_?" Bart's eyebrows rise in disbelief. "Are you crazy?" He thinks the man is. He must be actually insane.

Batman's losing patience. He slams Bart's book closed and glowers down at him, both hands pressed against the table. "If you could go back in time to stop the mode before it happens, would you do it? It's a yes or no answer."

"But… is that even possible? You're talking about _time travel_ here."

"I thought you'd jump at the opportunity. You're so good at running away," says Batman contemptuously. "Running away to the past is no different."

"Do you even have a time machine? Show it to me and I'll believe you."

"It isn't built yet." Bart rolls his eyes, and Batman sits across the table from him and steeples his fingers in front of his face, continuing irritably, "I'm working on it. I have the plans. Years ago, a pathetic, arrogant excuse of a Justice League member from an alternate timeline came to this world by accident. He was a time-traveller. He was only here for a few hours, but I managed to get a look at his technology. It's just a matter of collecting the parts."

"So _that's_ what you've been doing every night," Bart says, remembering the pieces of technology Batman keeps bringing back. Maybe this is _legitimate_. Maybe Batman's telling the truth. Bart wants more than anything to believe it's possible, so he plays along. "How far in the past are you thinking of? What year?"

"I have a few optimal dates chosen in 2015 and 2016."

"That's… That's around when the Flash died."

"That's when everything started going wrong," Batman adds.

"I know. I read the files. I know the story." Heroes dying and metahumans forced into hiding, enemies becoming more and more powerful, governments toppling and being conquered by cruel supervillains.

"No, you don't have the full story yet," says Batman. He leans back in his chair and glances over at the computer screen. "But I know who's the best at telling it."

* * *

There are a lot of files in the RG folder. A _lot_. Hundreds. Mostly video and audio, separated by year and labelled with dates. They make up a sort of video journal. Bart realizes what the RG stands for: Richard Grayson. The first Robin, who became Nightwing and then the second Batman.

"_Batman always makes case notes,"_ Robin says in the first entry._ "So I should, too."_

Batman tells Bart to skip most of the early ones. Bart watches and listens to a few anyway, hoping for some mentions of Wally.

"Were people actually that happy back then?" Bart asks, after listening to Robin recount another adventure he went on with his team.

"You should watch the _Hello, Megan_ files. The characters are so cheerful it's sickening," says Batman with distaste. "Take notes. That's what you'll have to act like to keep them from getting suspicious."

The files add up with what Bart's already read. The Light. The mind-controlled Justice League. His stomach twists in dread when he listens to Robin agonize over the missing sixteen hours and wonder what could have possibly happened, because _he knows_ and he can't warn any of them. Not right now. But maybe soon he'll be able to.

Batman directs him to the most important files, that start a year before the Flash's death. Dick is Nightwing, and his entries have a more confessional tone.

"_Bruce, or Barbara, or Tim… I'm talking about this here in case something happens to me, so you can know about the mission I've been a part of. I wish I could talk to you about it in person, right now, but it's a secret. Only me, Kaldur, Wally, and Artemis know about it. It's not because I don't trust you. I do. And I know you'll be mad at me for keeping this from you, but…"_

Bart knows about that secret. Wally told him, once or twice. He said he thought it was a bad idea at the time, but looking back he'd go through with it just to have a _chance_ at taking down the Light.

Dick varies between talking about the secret mission and talking about normal missions and the new team members.

"Is he your dad?" Bart asks Batman between videos. Curiosity is still eating away at him, and it makes some sense.

That's another question Batman ignores.

The Flash dies. Bart gets a lump in his throat. Things only get worse.

"_Wally and Artemis have decided to step out of the plan because of it. I understand where they're coming from. I don't blame them, but… I guess we'll just have to think of something else."_

"…_sentence carried through by his own father. High treason. It's sick. And no one else knows the truth. Kaldur left me instructions that said if he died during the mission, I wasn't supposed to tell anyone. Not until the Light's taken down. He wrote that the Team needs to have faith in me. It might be the only way they'll survive. I… I'm not sure how much I agree with that right now, to be honest…"_

"_The Justice League… The ones that went to Rimbor. They aren't coming back. They're… B-Bruce is…"_

"_The Batcave isn't safe anymore. Mount Justice is gone, too. They came for us in our homes. We all managed to get away, thankfully, but they know our identities, so we're in hiding. Luckily Bruce set up some secret bases that the Light doesn't know about—he had a plan for everything. I— I really miss him."_

"_Barbara woke up today, but they don't think she'll be able to walk again."_

"_Conner sacrificed himself to save us. It's all my fault. I should have known it was a trap. With the Light hunting us, we can't even have a real funeral."_

"_We found Steph. I almost wish we hadn't. She wasn't in good shape. We were too late; she was already…"_

"_Wally went to the safe zone with his family. It's better that way. I know he thinks we've—I've—failed. We talked before he left, and he said he's not mad at me. I hope he stays safe. Iris needs him to help with the twins, since Barry's gone."_

"_I'm worried about Tim. I think he's slipping away. He's… He believes Bruce is still alive. I have no idea why. I mean, I know we never found the— the body, but it's been over two years since the Light sent us that video."_

"_Ra's is going to pay." _

The sudden rage in Dick's voice startles Bart. He watches with wide eyes as the man onscreen struggles to control himself.

"_Tim was captured by the League of Shadows. He was searching for clues about Bruce, and they took him. I tried to save him, but when I got there… They… He was gone. And there's more to it, but I can't even talk about that. What did Ra's _do?_" _Dick sits there with his head in his hands, not looking at the screen. His voice shakes, but not with anger anymore. That seems to have dissipated and left him with grief. _"I shouldn't have brushed off Tim about Bruce. I should have listened. Then he wouldn't have gone off alone, and I wouldn't— wouldn't have lost another…" _His shoulders shake, and the video cuts out suddenly.

The next one is from later the same day. Dick's voice is hoarse and his eyes are bloodshot.

"_There's a kid who helped me escape. He says he's Bruce's son. Damian. He saw me in the Batman costume and demanded I take him to see his father. I told him Bruce was dead, but he still… he still wanted to go with me. To learn about Bruce. I had to bring him with me. He helped me fight off that… that twisted puppet Ra's created with his Lazurus experiments on Jason's body. Damian looks so much like Bruce…"_

The entries are less frequent. Dick only makes one when something bad happens, like someone dying. A lot of people do. People Bart's heard about, and people he never has. Members of the team, members of the Justice League, a Batgirl and a woman named Huntress, Nightrunner, a group called the Outsiders, Oracle, Artemis… It goes on.

Bart is scared to watch the last one. He knows what it'll mean. But Batman said he won't let Bart in on the plan if he doesn't prepare himself by knowing _everything_ there is to know about what happened. It's the only way they'll know how to fix it.

Dick's older, with some grey in his hair and deep worry lines etched in his face. He looks defeated.

"_Damian, I want you to know… You _need_ to know that, even though he never got a chance to meet you, your dad loves you. Okay? And I'm sorry… I… I wish I could go back and change things. I wish I could've done better, saved him somehow, so that you and Bruce had some time together. You deserved that. And you deserved to meet the rest of your family, like Tim and Jason—the real Jason, not the one you saw." _

Bart's aware of Batman standing behind him and watching the screen along with him, but he doesn't turn around to check.

"_I know this is my fault. People have tried to tell me that it isn't, but the fact remains that I failed. I tried to step up when the Justice League fell, and I couldn't stop the Light. I made too many mistakes when I tried to be Batman—I'm not cut out to be him. I never was. Now I'm passing it on to you. I'm really proud of you, Damian. I don't think you'll see me again, and I'm hoping you'll be able to forgive me… for all of this. For ruining your world. For weakening your father's legacy. For not being him. I'm sorry."_

Bart checks the date at the top of the screen, and it was created years before he was even born.

"How… How did he die?" Bart asks.

Batman—Damian—stares at the blank screen in quiet rage. His fists clench at his sides. "Like an idiot." He seethes for a minute, and then says in a strained voice, "Things get bad and then worse. You're going to be stuck in that time period. If you don't fix it, you'll have to live through that."

"I know." It's worth it, to get to see his family again. To possibly save them. It's… It's a gift, really. The best one Bart's ever been offered.

But something keeps bothering him. The machine will only be capable of taking one of them to the past, if it even works, and if that's the case…

"Why me?" Bart asks Damian. "Why not you?"

"It can only be one of us, and that needs to be you. Because of your physiology, you have a better chance of surviving the trip. They'll have a far easier time trusting you. It's the logical choice."

"But, don't you want to—" _See your father? See Dick again? Be reunited with the people you lost?_

"Don't," Damian interrupts because Bart can ask any of those questions. The temptation to use the time machine himself is there, clear on Damian's face. "Don't ask me that. I've thought about it. It has to be you. I don't belong there."

"But—"

"I don't want a second chance!" Damian blurts out angrily, even though it's obviously the opposite of the truth.

Bart winces, and realizes that Damian is _scared_. He's the Batman, legendary for being the most intimidating person on the face of the Earth, and he's _scared_ of the idea of going to the past.

"When I go back there," Bart says carefully, trying not to set Damian off again, "is there anything you want me to tell them?"

Damian frowns and turns away, and that's just another question Bart doesn't get an answer to.

* * *

Weeks of preparation pass. Bart studies the computer files until he knows every detail of what's going to happen in the past—that knowledge is going to be his greatest tool in crashing the mode. Damian drills him in plans and strategies and facts until Bart has everything down cold. He makes Bart go over the plans for the time machine, because Bart's the one who's going to be putting it all together. Good thing he has a knack for fixing things out of spare parts, one of the skills he honed while on the run.

"Most of the supplies are at the location," Damian tells him as he hands him a backpack heavy with food, water, and essential parts for the machine. "Nathaniel's waiting for you there. He'll help you build the machine."

"What are you going to do when I leave?" Bart asks as he shoulders the backpack.

"I'm taking the fight directly to the mode. It will distract them enough to give you time to finish. When they defeat me, they'll think they've finally won and let their guard down. They won't be looking for you."

Bart almost can't believe what he's hearing. "Defeat you? You don't mean you're actually going to—"

"I'm going to do what I have to."

"You're going to _die_. Like— Like an idiot."

Damian doesn't say anything. He just starts unlatching the many locks on the door. He's accepted it.

"If they find out…" Bart says as the door scrapes open. "If they get the truth out of me about the future and what happened to them and _you_, what do you want me to tell Dick? Or Bruce? I'll have to tell them _something_. Do you want me to tell Dick you forgive him?"

"I haven't. For some things I have, but not everything." Damian's eyes go narrow and angry. "If you complete the mission, it won't matter."

Bart takes a deep breath and steps out into the subway tunnel. He's looking forward to running again. "Bye, Damian."

"Do your job, Bart."

The door slams shut and Bart gets ready to sprint. He has a past to save.


End file.
